An Extension of Me
by McRaider
Summary: Four times Kurt Hummel went to his father, and one time he almost didn't.


**An Extension of Me**

**McRaider**

**Summary**: Four times Kurt Hummel went to his father, and one time he almost didn't.

**Author's Note:** I adore their relationship pretty much in every possible way. I always thought these stories were silly, but the more I write them the more I occasionally just love them.

They'd be going home tomorrow, Burt couldn't fathom that, he remembered when his mom had had his little sister, and she'd been in the hospital for practically a week. Now twenty years later women left the hospital the next day if there weren't any problems. He didn't think that could be healthy. But the doctors said she was doing perfectly well for a woman who went through twelve hours of labor.

He was just starting to drift off when a small cry echoed through the room, he groaned and lifted his head; this was what it was going to be like. But the baby didn't cry loud, just enough to be heard. Glancing at his wife who was still blissfully asleep, Burt stood and walked over to the bassinet thing the baby slept in. He was bundled in a little blue blanket, a tiny cap on his bald little head. "Just like dad," Burt joked at the sight of the baldness. Almost terrified to break the baby, Burt gently put his hands under the baby's neck-just like Mary had instructed, and his other wrapped around to hold the rest of his body. "Hey little guy, don't cry," He whispered. Instantly the crying stopped. Blue eyes stared up at him. Mary had told him that Kurt's eye color would change over the next couple weeks.

Burt almost didn't want them to; it meant Kurt had her eyes. But there were already hints of green flakes in the eyes. That was okay too; Kurt looked a lot like his mother, for now it was fine by him for Kurt to have at least one thing that resembled him.

Moving back towards the rocking chair in the hospital room he sat down and rocked the boy back and forth. Humming lightly as the baby cooed at him occasionally, Burt smiled down wondering what the little boy would become. What would he grow up to be?

"I love you," Burt whispered, pressing a kiss to the baby's head. "You're so little," He murmured, but a hand gripped his finger, and Burt grinned, "Small but clearly full of spark. I'll always take care of you Kurt." With another kiss to the baby's forehead he closed his eyes and continued to rock the tiny infant, reveling in the warmth and love he felt for a single little child. He'd thought it was completely impossible to love anything or anyone more than his wife. She'd just proved him completely wrong.

**Five Years Later**

"DADDY!" The scream echoed through the house, the patter of feet racing across the floor. Burt was already awake and throwing back his covers as the child all but hurled himself into his father's arms sobbing.

"Hey, hey, you're okay," Lifting the child into his arms, he began to gently pace the room, rubbing the crying boy's back. "You're safe," He murmured repeatedly.

"Honey?" Mary asked softly.

Burt shook his head, "Go back to sleep Mary, I've got him." For the first few years of his life, Kurt had constantly sought comfort from his mommy. But then he hit about four and his attention shifted to his daddy. His daddy had become his world.

Burt smiled at that thought, as he realized how deeply his son seemed to idolize him. It was humbling to know someone looked up to him so much. He'd hit a rash of nightmares lately, the parenting books all said it was normal that as children grew the developed nightmares about loosing the people they loved. They'd just put their cat down a month ago, which may have caused the problems to begin with.

Holding his son close, Burt smiled softly as he headed downstairs and clicked on the CD player, he turned the music up softly to John Mellencamp and began to hum as he continued to rub the boy's back and whisper calming words into his ear. "Daddy's got you. Do you want to talk about it?"

He felt a small shake of Kurt's head. The sweat head was pressed to his neck, body heat radiating off the boy. It ceased to amaze Burt how warm a perfectly healthy child could be. He always seemed so warm. Maybe that's what made Burt love to hug his son. He warmed every part of Burt to the core.

"You died," the child whispered ever so softly.

Burt sighed, "I'm sorry baby, but I'm here now. I'm okay. Mommy is upstairs okay."

Kurt nodded slowly, "Can I sleep wif you?" the voice asked hesitantly.

Burt smiled sadly, "Kurt, you've got to sleep in your big boy bed more than three nights in a row."

"Next week," the boy replied gently.

Burt chuckled softly and sighed. This kid had both his parents wrapped around his little finger; there was no doubt about that. "Come on then big guy, let's go visit mommy." He switched off his Mellencamp and headed back upstairs.

"Daddy."

"Yes son."

"Next time, can we listen to Phantom?"

Nobody had ever asked Burt how he felt about having a gay son, and maybe Kurt wasn't aware of it yet, but the signs were there. Burt chuckled softly. "Sure son." It made him love the boy even more for being a little special.

Within moments of being handed to his mother, Kurt was fast asleep snuggled between the two parents. Mary looked down at the sleeping child and grinned. "He's beautiful," She whispered, running her hand through his dark brown hair.

"Looks like you."

"He has your eyes." She replied.

Burt smiled, "I know."

"Will you love him, even if he does turn out to be…gay?"

Burt smirked kissing his wife, "I'll love him no matter who he becomes."

**Three Years Later**

The figures offered their condolences, shook hands, but all the while the eight year old clung to his father's leg, holding tight, and head buried against his hip. Burt had kept his hand on the boy's head the whole time. He could feel the child shaking beside him, and could tell that this was all becoming overwhelming for the child.

There was a gentle tug on his suit coat, looking down into the green eyes that mirrored his own he forced a sad smile, "Come here kid," Leaning down he lifted his son into his arms, cuddling him close. A small head leaned against his neck and shoulder. Kurt had kept it together pretty well until this point, Brut felt hot tears against his neck.

Burt's younger sister sighed as she moved towards her brother, "How is he?" She asked gently.

Burt shook his head, not even sure himself how to put into words. "This sucks," He whispered.

Kim chuckled gently, "Do you want me to take him for awhile."

"No, I don't think either one of us really want to be very far apart right now," He offered. It was true. He was faced with the horror that he'd be left alone to raise a son that he didn't really understand in a way he understood most men. But Burt was faced with raising his son on his own, and damn it he'd do the best he could. Mary would only want the very best for her little boy.

"I miss mommy," came the soft voice from by his ear.

"Me too," Burt whispered, his own eyes tearing up. He missed her so much. He'd never planned on raising a child on his own. But he was a Hummel and that meant he'd face this as he faced everything, strength and as much courgae as he could muster.

"Don't be sad daddy," The small boy whispered as he looked up and realized his father was crying. He reached out, pressing his little hand to the man's cheek. "Mommy's with the angels."

Burt bit his lip and looked at his child, "Yeah she is," He murmured. He hugged his son close, cuddling him. "I love you kid, don't you ever forget that."

"I love you too daddy." He whispered leaning his head back down on Burt's shoulder, but patting the man's shoulder lightly as if to comfort him. Perhaps it was at that moment, that Burt realized his son would be forced to grow up a little as well.

**Five Years Later**

Teenagers were…difficult, Burt wasn't sure of any other way to describe that phase of childhood, but to describe it as difficult. His son Kurt was a picture perfect child in plenty of ways-despite his need for designer clothes at every corner. The worst part was the kid kept shooting up, which meant the new clothes were more expensive.

Burt was working on an older car when he heard the door slam to his office. He glanced over at one of his fellow mechanics who shrugged, "Tornado Kurt may have just blown in."

Burt chuckled softly, he shouldn't let people pick on his son, but everyone at the garage knew Kurt was gay and willingly accepted it-or was fired. Because his son had just barely turned thirteen, however it was a little amusing when one moment the kid could be the happiest boy in the world and then the next minute he was slamming things around and getting angry at people.

Burt wiped his hands on a nearby rag-knowing inevitably if he had to comfort his son that the boy would have a heart-attack if he got something on his Gucci or whatever it was. He made his way towards the office he'd long since claimed as his own.

He looked through the window; the comfortable leather chair was turned back against the door, music blaring through the small office. Shaking his head he opened the door, reaching out to turn the music down. "Leave me alone." Came the slightly cold tone of his teenager.

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," Burt chuckled softly. He'd learned by now how to manage most of his son's mood swings. After all he'd lived with his wife most of their teenage and adult years to know how to handle her mood swings. "You want to turn around and tell me why you slammed the door so hard that the glass walls all shook."

"Go away," The boy mumbled.

"Kurt, what's wrong?" Burt was getting frustrated-it was too early in the game to get frustrated with this teenager. But he could tell from the way the child's feet were propped up on the back window that he was trying to make himself as small as possible.

Reaching out, Burt shut the music off. "Drop the attitude and turn around." His voice left no room for argument. He waited for his son to do as he was told.

"Go away," this time the voice sounded smaller and weaker…and dangerously shaky.

Burt wanted desperately give his son the freedom, and privacy he sought everyday. He wanted to respect his son, and he felt that most of the time he was doing a good job, because most days his son didn't talk back, he didn't fight and he was rarely ever in trouble. "Yeah now I know you're not okay. What's going on-" Burt caught a look at his son's face and he felt his heart clench. "What the hell happened!" He demanded.

Kurt visibly flinched at his father's shout, "I don't want-"

"I don't care; you don't come home slamming doors with a black eye and a split lip and get out of talking about it."

"I don't wanna talk about it!" The boy yelled as loud as he could, he all but launched himself from the chair, desperate to get away, but his father grabbed his arm. "Let me go!" He said, his voice at the edge of panic.

"Not until you tell me what happened, did you get into a fight-"

"Let me go!" He yelled shoving his father's arms away from him, without another word he ran out of the office as fast as his feet would carry him.

Burt more stunned and hurt by his son's abnormal behavior ran after his son. "Kurtis Joseph!" He yelled the boy's full name trying to get his attention. But the boy was far away already, on his back riding to their house, Burt could only assume. "Damn it!" Burt yelled punching a wall.

"Welcome to parenthood my man," Carl chuckled from inside the garage.

"Shut up," growled Burt. He sighed, realizing he was directing his anger at someone who had nothing to do with the situation. "Can you-"

"Say no more, I'll call you when I've closed down for the night. Go take care of your kid."

Burt hopped in his car and headed down the road after his son. The house was litterally five minutes down the road, so Kurt had clearly already arrived, because his bike was in the front yard.

Sighing heavily, he closed the door to the his car and slowly walked up the sidewalk. "Everything all right, Big B?" His next door neighbor, Anita Puckermen questioned.

Burt waved and smiled, "Thanks Nita, we're fine."

"Have a good day."

"You too." He mumbled something about nosey broad before he opened the door, unsurprised to find it unlocked. "Kurt?" He called, the house was eerily quiet. He went downstairs first. He'd made a bedroom out of the basement, wanting to give his son more room and privacy, for Kurt's last birthday. He smiled at the memory of how his son had danced and run around the room for the next hour.

However for now the room was dark and his son wasn't within these four walls. So he headed back upstairs. The only other place the boy would be hiding was in Burt and Mary's bedroom. It was his sanctuary of sorts.

The door was closed-which was the first clue his son was inside. The second was a familiar song playing, 'Jack and Diane' by John Mellencamp. Burt smiled, that was the song he used to sing Kurt to sleep with. Some days, Burt missed the little boy who saw his father as the man who could do no wrong.

Stepping into the bathroom, Burt wet a washcloth and wrung it out. Stepping back over to the bedroom, he gently knocked on the door, hearing the 'go away'. Burt sighed; this was one time he wasn't going away. He pushed the door open, and shut the CD player off. He looked down at his son that was face down on the bed; he was clutching his mother's pillow face buried in it.

It was fairly clear the child was crying, his shoulders shaking. Burt sighed, we was well outside his limits as he moved towards the bed and sat down. Reaching out he gently placed a hand on the small of the boy's back. Immediately the teen pulled away. "Leave me alone."

Burt sighed and closed his eyes. "What's wrong son?" he asked in the gentlest tone he could muster, despite the anger that was mounting with each rejection.

"Please leave me alone," He cried, this time his voice was so forlorn that Burt couldn't quite stand it.

"Kurt, I can't make it better if you don't talk to-"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Kurt yelled.

Having enough of the child's attitude, he grabbed his son starting to turn him over, when he found his teenager trying to fight him off. Pushing and kicking. "HEY!" Burt growled, not appreciating the temper tantrum, "STOP IT!" He growled.

The boy froze, his eyes watering as he tried desperately to get away. "Please," He whimpered.

"Son, what's happened?"

"Nothin," the boy wiped at his nose.

Burt sighed heavily, deciding that maybe now wasn't the best time to try and deal with his stubborn child. "Fine, I'll be downstairs, here," He handed his son the washcloth and without another word he left the room.

Kurt buried his face in the pillow, sobbing harder than ever.

Burt headed downstairs, finding his son's backpack on the floor, he picked it up. He opened the bag, pulling out the books Kurt would need to do his homework, when a small packet fell on the floor. Opening the packet, he felt the blood drain from his face. Pictures sat inside the envelope, pictures he wasn't proud of. Pictures of a thin kid in a football uniform with the word FAG written across his jersey-standing in the middle holding the kid back proudly was none other than Burt Hummel.

Burt closed his eyes, "Shit," He whispered as he all but collapsed in a nearby chair. His son wasn't even supposed to know what that word meant, let alone know it was said about boys like himself. He pulled out the pictures, moving to the next one, all of them were similar and Burt could remember these days-all too well. He'd been a bad kid, a tough kid who thought kids like Kurt were losers and wusses-he thought being gay was a bad thing. Even if Kurt didn't fully realize he was gay yet-he definitely knew that pictures like this meant his father hated people like him…at some point. "God kid," He whispered.

Taking a slow deep breath, he put the pictures down, completely unsure how to handle this one. "Mary, what am I supposed to do?" He asked softly, "This kid thinks I can't love him."

He could almost hear her words in the back of his head, "Then show him silly. You're his daddy."

Taking a slow and calming breath, he made his way back upstairs. He opened the door to find his son sobbing in earnest, barely breathing through his body wracking sobs. "You know, before you were born I wasn't a very nice guy." Burt decided honesty was the best policy-it had always worked with Kurt's mother. "Used to beat up kids, pick on kids," he sighed, "Even threw a couple in the dumpster." He smiled weakly, "Then I met this woman…who found my behavior absolutely terrible, despite that though she loved me. And she married me…and as if to prove that I'm really evil, god graced me with a child who was just like all those kids I used to pitch into dumpsters." Burt smiled. "And the moment you were born my life changed. I felt bad for all the horrible things I'd done to those kids. I realized that somewhere their moms and dads were struggling to make those kids become good men and women, and I made their jobs a little harder for me. Maybe it's only fair that you know the truth about your old man. I realized the older you got…how deeply I want to protect you from all the hurts in this world. Never did I think I'd end up being one of those hurts."

Burt was pleased to find his son was at least looking at him now. Taking that as a good sign, he stood up and moved over to the bed, and sat down beside the child. "Maybe you're a little geeky, nerdy-whatever. So what if you're a little different than everyone else, that's what makes you you. Makes you special…it's what makes you Kurt. And Kurt, I couldn't be prouder if I had a son who was just like me. You are everything I ever dreamed of and so much more."

"Why did you hurt those kids?" He asked, as if the answer would right any wrongs.

Burt sighed, shaking his head, "I don't know baby, because I was a stupid teenager and I caved into peer pressure. But here, you're safe. I'll never hurt you son."

Kurt gave a very hesitant and slow nod.

Burt took that as another good sign and spoke, "You wanna tell me what happened today that you're sporting a bruised face?"

"You gonna get mad?"

"No…I'm angry at whoever gave you these pictures. I'm not a big fan of someone telling my kid what a jackass I am."

Kurt gave a slim smile. Burt smiled warmly, "Kid I love you, and I desperately hope that nothing anyone tells you will ever make you believe otherwise."

"It was Puck."

Burt sighed, the little bastard kid from next door. Great go figure. Callous brat. Burt stood up, and with the ease of a practiced father, he placed his hands under Kurt's arms. He lifted Kurt into his arms and carried him into the bathroom. Once they were in the bathroom, Burt put his son on the counter top, waving off any argument about dirtying anything. He turned the hot water on, took the washcloth and dampened it. He gently dabbed at the split lip that was still bleeding.

"Did he sucker punch you?"

"No."

"Good…did you hit him back?"

"Maybe."

Burt chuckled softly, "Got your dad's temper," He joked. "Just what you need. So what happened?"

"He showed me the pictures…then called me…dad he called me that bad word."

"The f-word." Kurt nodded.

Burt sighed, "Sweetheart," He looked at his son, "It's just a label son. A mean and nasty label. Like when I yell at the TV, those are labels. And you know what labels are for right?"

"Containers in the grocery store."

Burt grinned, "That's right. Look Kurt, you are different, I think you know that. Maybe you're not sure why, but you do know that. And when you decide to fill me in as to what makes you different, I'm still going to love you and the only label you'll ever fall under for me is son. Okay."

"Sorry I yelled…and kicked you."

Burt smirked, "Yeah well for that you'll pay, but for now I'll forgive you." He turned away for a moment, wiping his now clean hands on the towel.

"Dad."

Turning he looked at those beautiful tear filled green eyes. "Yeah?" He asked his own voice a little tight.

"You're my best friend…you know that right."

Burt felt his heart constrict, he grabbed his son off the counter-top and pulled him close, feeling the legs wrap around his waist. "You're my best friend too kiddo." He pressed a kiss to the boy's cheek. "I love you."

He heard the sniffle and felt the nod, and for Burt Hummel that was enough.


End file.
